


Straight Talk

by Hanna



Series: Shush [1]
Category: Thor (2011)
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, M/M, bottom!Thor, fandral's straight but thor's cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-07 02:02:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3156857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hanna/pseuds/Hanna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor likes Fandral; Fandral's straight, but Thor's very pretty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Straight Talk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chrisalas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chrisalas/gifts).



> This fic was a commission I really, really loved doing.

Usually Thor was more focused in the training yards. But he'd been distracted lately.

He was fighting Fandal, and he was only ever distracted while fighting him; his form was as good as ever with Sif or Hogun or Volstagg, but with Fandral his eyes kept darting to the fading marks on his neck and something strange rose in him; a feeling he couldn't name for the life of him, a warmth that started at the base of his spine. And then Fandral had him on the ground and he didn't know that he'd struck.

The first time it had happened he'd crowed about beating Asgard's finest warrior, but now he only looked concerned as he helped him up.

"Are you well?" he asked. "You seem distracted." Thor wrenched his eyes from the sweat glistening on his skin and the mark that was still quite present under it.

"Fine," he said. "You got a lucky blow." Volstagg laughed.

"For the second time in a row," he said.

"Oh, get out," Sif told him, shoving him out the ring. No one else would have dared to shove the crown prince, but that was why he liked his friends. He wasn't the crown prince to them; he was Thor. He wiped the dirt off his tunic as he joined Volstagg at the fence and watched Sif dispatch Fandral's weapon promptly, but watched Fandral more than Sif.

XX

As was customary for an evening Thor and his friends were found in the dining hall with many empty horns before them, redfaced and talking too loudly. Fandral was bragging about a maiden whose name he couldn't quite remember who he had either bedded or lusted over- it wasn't entirely clear and the details kept changing.

"Longest hair," he said, "As blonde as..." his mouth hung open as he tried to find the right word. "Silk!" he finally announced triumphantly. "Down to here." He gestured vaguely at his waist and Thor reached idly up to touch his own, just past his shoulder and sticky with sweat. Mother would take him to task for that no doubt. It hardly mattered now; he was floating somewhere a foot off the ground and worldly cares were immaterial.

"And her eyes..." Fandral sighed dreamily. "As blue as yours." That was aimed at Thor, who giggled (and would deny ever doing it).

"You're sure-" he hiccupped, "That you're not talking about me?" He drank deep and Sif rolled her eyes. Even drunk she was more sensible than the rest of them. Volstagg hadn't looked up from his plate, which never seemed to get emptier.

"You're hardly a maiden," he said now, looking up, food all through his beard. "Unless you have the huge tits he was bragging about." He peered at Thor's chest and everyone laughed. Thor scowled in mock indignation.

"You think I would not make a beautiful maiden?" he asked and Volstagg waved a hand.

"The most beautiful," he said. Thor sat back and took another  mead from a passing servant, spilling it a bit as he brought it to his lips.

"Good," he declared, swaying a little in his seat. Loki, sitting a few seats down from them, snorted and Thor ignored him. Sif reached to steady him and he batted her hand away, nearly falling off the bench in the process. "I am a prince-" he hiccupped, "Prince of Asgard, I do not require assistance."

He leaned forward, elbows bumping against the table hard.

"Perhaps you ought to rest," Volstagg said, but _he_ was one to talk, he was as redfaced as him. Thor opened his mouth to say so and the words got lost somewhere along the way; he made an unintelligible slur and drank to cover it.

"Oh no," Fandral said, his voice somewhat steadier, "You've had enough." He rose and took Thor's horn from him, disregarding his complaints. "To bed with you." Thor giggled.

"You're taking me to bed," he said and Fandral went perhaps a midge redder; it must have been the drink. He pulled him to his feet and the ground spun beneath Thor, so he wrapped his arms around the taller blonde and leaned into his chest. "You're warm," he mumbled into his skin.

Fandral led him off, his feet half dragging across the stone floor, unable to get them to move in time, and he heard Loki snort derisively. Fandral's arm was snug around his shoulders and he looked up at him, his chin digging into his chest.

"Hey," he began, and then frowned, confused. Fandral didn't stop moving as he replied.

"What?" he asked. Thor's nose scrunched up.

"I forgot," he finally said. Fandral smiled.

"It'll come back to you," he said as they reached Thor's quarters. "Here you go." He helped him inside and into bed, and Thor tried to tug him down but Fandral easily fended him off. His eyelids were heavy and it was a struggle to keep them open.

"Sleep it off," Fandral told him. "You'll feel better in the morning."

Thor let his eyes close, and could have sworn he felt fingers brushing against his forehead. But he fast asleep half a second later.

XX

He'd forgotten about it the next morning.

He forgot most drunken nights, and even if he didn't, he dismissed anything that happened as the result of the drink; Mother often took him to task about his drinking and his father had lectured him more than once about "appropriate levels of consumption for a prince." He had received many lectures from his father in his life, however, and while the Allfather was scary even to his own son, he wasn't in the habit of actually _listening_ to the lectures. It wasn't like it made much of a difference if he did; Father was always taking him to task for _something_.

He might as well have some fun.

But while he'd forgotten the exact details of that night, he hadn't stopped looking at Fandral's marks; it seemed he had new ones every week, and while he didn't draw attention to them Thor could, and often did, imagine the way they were created.

Fandral would be on top, thrusting in, the lady would be scratching his back or biting his neck to stop herself from screaming. He'd hold her tighter and...

Usually Thor didn't last long imagining these, his calloused palm squeezing around himself, redfaced and gasping.

It wasn't like it was a surprise that he jerked off while fantasising about Fandral, he'd always known he liked men as well as women, but it did make things awkward. Fancying your friend tended to do that. And Fandral was straight, so they would only ever remain fantasies.

Besides, if it got out that the prince of Asgard was _ergi_...

No, it was better this way, he decided. There were no harm in fantasies.

XX

It had been raining, and that meant only one thing.

The four abandoned their swords and plans to spar, and declared that it was time for a wrestling match.

Thor had tried to convince Loki to join them, but Loki didn't like sparring on the best days and he knew all too well what rainy days and muddy training grounds meant, so he'd locked his door with a swish of his finger and ignored Thor's knocking and calling of his name. His friends had looked quite relieved when he'd come without him.

"He always cheats," Volstagg said. "Magic isn't allowed in a wrestle." Thor didn't argue the point; he and his friends oft disagreed about Loki, but he was still a prince, and so was Loki. He was drawing away from Thor though, and Thor didn't know what to do about it. All the suggestions his friends had come up with hadn't worked and he didn't much like reading, and Loki didn't like having him there anyway. He was dejected about Loki's refusal but as they started stripping their tunics off his eyes were drawn to Fandral's bared body.

He tore them away as he took his own off and his eyes darted over to Fandral once more, to find Fandral was looking at him too. He went pink and so did Fandral.

Fortunately Volstagg dragged Sif into the training yards first and Hogun stared Fandral down in challenge (last time they had wrestled Fandral had beat him, and he'd been keen on a rematch ever since), leaving Thor on the fence to watch until someone lost. And they were far too busy to pay attention to their spectator.

Which left him free to watch Fandral as Hogun proceeded to strike first while he was off guard still, knocking him into the mud. He landed with a soft "oof" but wasn't out for long, diving on Hogun before he could strike again.

Thor, meanwhile, tried to turn his attention to Volstagg and Sif. One would think they'd be unevenly matched but they'd be wrong; for all her size, Sif was as strong as Volstagg and they could all count the number of times they'd won against her on one hand. She was going easy on Volstagg at the moment, though; it was clear Volstagg knew, but he was still trying his hardest, even knowing she was going to end up on top of him.

She wasn't a traditional lady for sure, but she was striking in her own way, and while many laughed at her the prospect of a woman who was a challenge led them to lose spectacularly to her over the years, and still they challenged her.

Thor's eyes slid over to Fandral and Hogun again and he looked back at Sif and Volstagg, just as Sif got sick of playing nice. Volstagg ended up on his back and she straddled him, smirking.

"Next time," Volstagg promised as she let him get up.

Thor passed Volstagg as they skirted around Hogun and Fandral's flying mud, a glob of which hit Thor in cheek, and he wiped it off.

"You tried," he told Volstagg. Volstagg sighed.

"She's just too good," he said and they both laughed. Thor stepped in front of Sif, who was still smirking.

"Are you going to provide as much of a challenge as you did last time?" she asked and he didn't reply, barrelling in and knocking her to the mud. She laughed.

XX

He still lost. Sore and covered in mud he conceded defeat and held his hands up in surrender.

"I yield," he said. "I yield, I yield." She didn't help him up, but didn't knock him on his ass again when he climbed to his feet either. That was improvement at least. Fandral, limping in the result of his defeat by a triumphant Hogun, gave him a rueful smile.

"Looks like it's us now," he said as Hogun stepped in front of Sif. Thor squared his shoulders.

"Your ass is mine," he told Fandral, who grinned.

"I think I'd rather have yours," he said, and Thor could have sworn he heard flirtation in that voice, and struck.

There was something different about this match. It wasn't just Thor's imagination. They were usually physical, true, but they'd never had a match this long, never hit this light. He certainly didn't want it to end, it was as close as he'd ever get to his fantasies, but Fandral usually ended it sooner than this.

Fandral was hitting lighter than he usually would, lingering a moment too long when he had Thor pinned and giving him the opportunity to strike back, to flip him onto his back and get up, and it would have been insulting if it wasn't so arousing. Thor's only consolation was that they had long gotten used to physical reactions during wrestling matches, so Fandral would hopefully attribute the brushes of the bulge of his pants against him as that; certainly that was all Fandral's was.

Right?

Finally Thor pressed Fandral into the mud and knelt over him, holding him down.

"Yield," he said.

"I yield," Fandral said, holding his hands up as best as he could with his armed pinned. "I yield." Volstagg snorted.

"Finally," he said. "Don't think we didn't notice you two going easy on each other."

"Let's shower," Hogun said and Thor climbed to his feet before helping Fandral up, clasping his rough hand in his own and pulling. They'd see his red face as exertion.

It was getting stronger; what had started as a harmless crush was growing at an exponential rate and surely they'd have noticed something was wrong. If Fandral noticed... or worse, if Father did...

When he'd been a boy he'd been terrified of his father, terrified to the point that he'd tried to run away whenever he saw him coming. Finally Father had chained him to the leg of his throne to make him stay there,  and while that hadn't helped his fear of him, knowing that he was willing to do that had made him stay put when he came by.

He still remembered sitting stock still so not to rattle the chain, breath coming far too fast, convinced...

He'd been convinced Father was going to hurt him.

It was a conviction that had never really gone away. Odin was hardly gentle on his sons, and if he was willing to chain him to the leg of his throne as a child to make him perform his duty, what would he do to him if he found out he not only fancied men, but was actively lusting after Fandral, his companion? He shuddered to think.

"Thor," Fandral said, and he looked up, realising the others had gone. "Come on." He hurried to catch up.

XX

Sif, Hogun and Volstagg scrubbed quickly and left for dinner, but Fandral and Thor stayed behind. Thor had hoped Fandral would leave with the others but he was clearly waiting for them to leave as much as he was and he was curious.

Other warriors came and left and finally they were alone.

"Do they bother you?" Fandral asked abruptly. Thor blinked at him.

"What?" He scrubbed at long-clean skin nervously.

"The marks." Fandral rolled his neck to bring them into greater prominence. "You stare at them. Do they disgust you?" The way Thor went red could not be mistaken for anything else.

"I," he stammered.

"I can cover them up," Fandral continued. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable." Thor hated that thought; he didn't want Fandral to cover them up, he liked seeing them- perhaps a little too much. Perhaps it might be a good idea...

He opened his mouth to say so but something else entirely came out.

"No, it's not that." Fandral waited for him to finish as he went even redder. "I... I just..." Fandral looked away and Thor knew he must be disgusted with him. It was a long time since he'd been ashamed of being attracted to men but the shame that had plagued his younger years was all too present still and rose up. Fandral stepped forward on seeing it.

"Don't," he said. "Don't... look like that, don't be ashamed." Fandral's eyes flashed up and down his body. "You..."

Thor couldn't meet his eyes. But he didn't need to to understand what Fandral meant when he leaned in and kissed him.

He gasped and his gaze jerked up, eyes wide and Fandral stepped back, looking away.

"I... I shouldn't... I'm sorry, I..." he looked as bewildered as Thor felt. "I just..."

Thor reached out to touch his hand, and then they sprang apart as someone else entered, redfaced. They hurried to dress and didn't look at each other as they went upstairs.

XX

They sparred less; Thor was confused and grateful. Fandral had _kissed_ him, and Fandral was straight; he knew that Fandral couldn't like him. But he'd kissed him first, and it'd felt so good...

He felt Fandral's lips on his when he closed his hand around himself.

He'd have kissed Fandral back if that other warrior hadn't come in.

He must have known what they were up to, he must have known... not that anything had happened... if he told Odin... But Father hadn't summoned him yet, and didn't _seem_ angry at him...

He squeezed his eyes closed and even the shame that had come back in force wasn't enough to keep him from coming at the image of Fandral pinning him to the bed and spreading his legs.

XX

They went on a hunting trip some weeks later.

It was long planned, which was the only reason Loki was there; it took a long time to convince Loki to join them, but once he did he would come no matter how he sulked about it or complained. It was oft said he had no honour, but he did, as much as anyone else.

It seemed only Thor could see that.

Nonetheless, despite Loki's scowl, the group's mood was high as they went down the rainbow bridge to the bifrost, packs on their backs, weapons at their sides, bows and arrows on their back. Heimdall looked at them as they arrived.

"To Vanaheim!" Thor said and Heimdall  pushed his sword into the pedestal.

"Happy hunting, your highnesses," he said as the bifrost whirred to life.

The first time he'd travelled by bifrost he'd thrown up; he'd gotten used to it by now, and barely stumbled as he arrived on the surface. It was only his fourth solitary hunting trip and nothing could dampen his mood. He cheered as he looked around.

"If you be so loud we'll never catch anything," Loki said.

"Hush," Volstagg said. "Let him have this moment."

XX

They made camp in a clearing by a river, though it wasn't much of a camp; bedrolls around a fire, not a tent to be seen. As the sun set they roasted some rabbits they'd caught and ate them.

"I saw a trail," Hogun said. "That direction." He pointed west. The others turned to look that way. "We should follow them in the morning."

"An excellent idea," Thor said, grinning. "Indeed we must." Loki rolled his eyes.

"We should sleep," he said. "If you want to start early enough to make any headway." Sif reached over to him and he evaded her punch, scowling.

"Stop dampening the mood," she said. "Go to bed yourself if you're so determined we should." He stomped off to his own bedroll and the others pressed closer to the fire.

"Why do you bring him?" Volstagg asked.

"He's my brother," Thor said in a tone that brooked no argument.

An hour later they were telling bawdy jokes and stories, but by then even Thor agreed they ought to sleep.

"To bed," he said. "We must be up with sunrise." Loki didn't move in his bedroll but Thor knew that he was still awake.

"Indeed," Fandral said. "To bed." He looked at Thor quickly then away. Thor went a little pink and noticed that Fandral was too.

They dispersed quickly and Sif doused the fire, exchanging goodnights. Thor went to sleep quickly.

XX

They woke with the sun.

It was easy, really; Thor had been too wired up to sleep well anyway, too eager to get started, and when he woke the others did- but his assistance or not. And, some grumbling (Loki) and some not, they packed their camp up and headed off.

The trail was old but also a clearly established, and it wasn't long before they saw new tracks. A herd by the looks of it; there were small and large prints. And they were close.

They found a smallish bull by the river alone; not a juvenile, but not yet fully grown. He was good prey, a good prize.

They should have waited, they should have watched more carefully. But the coast seemed clear.

Thor threw his hammer and it went clean through the bull, but the bull's cries attracted a larger male, a fully grown one. The leader of the pack, by his size and the quickness of his response. His head swung this way and that, looking for the threat, and he caught their scent.

Mjolnir returned to Thor's hand as he charged, and Thor charged to meet him, his friends trying to pull him back and then following him when they failed to dissuade him from his course. He dropped Mjolnir and swung at the bull's head bare handed- what a prize _he_ would be to present to Father!- but the bull was barely fazed by the blow. At least three times his size, possibly four, even with his friends behind him they couldn't have taken him down.

Thor wasn't aware when the bull's horn ripped through him but he screamed as the world went red, then black.

XX

He was naked when he awoke.

At least he thought he was; he wasn't quite sure where he was and pain ripped through him, savaging his senses. He could still hear his friends though, faintly.

"Was it really necessary to strip him?" Fandral was protesting and he heard Loki say curtly "Yes." He closed his eyes as nausea swam up and gasped with agony as he tried to move and regretted it. The conversation stopped and footsteps came close, but only two sets moved to his side. Loki shoved him onto his side and he let out a choked cry of pain.

"Loki," Fandral said sharply from his other side, taking his hand.

"I need access to the wound." Loki was none too gentle as he slapped his hand on it and Thor kept his eyes squeezed shut, clutching to Fandral's hand as he felt Loki's magic course through him, knitting his flesh together. Loki was scolding him but the world was far enough away as it was; the only thing anchoring him there was Fandral's hand in his. He whimpered at the pain as Loki thrust him onto his chest and Fandral hastily switched the hand he was holding.

"Be gentle," he snapped at Loki, and Thor blacked out again before he heard Loki's reply.

XX

They went home early, and without a prize.

Thor was still limping but he was in one piece at least, though his armour needed repairs, and he couldn't meet Father's eyes. His gaze was trained to the floor and he could almost feel the chain around his ankle again.

"I would have thought you would know better," Father said. He flushed deeper with shame.

"I'm sorry Father," he mumbled. "I-"

"Be silent."

Thor didn't know what he was going to say anyway.

"Report to Eir," Father said, and he felt his gaze sweeping over him and the way he held his side. Thor nodded mutely and Fandral and Sif came to either side of him to support him. He shook them off and winced. He'd walk out on his own two feet.

After he got out the throne room though, he let them help him.

XX

It had been some weeks, and Father had forgiven him for his foolishness; or at least didn't hold it against him. He didn't dare ask about another hunting trip though.

Not just yet, at least.

He had thanked Loki for his help and gotten a curt "I only needed to because you were a fool" in reply before backing out, and he'd not had much to do with him since; Loki shunned him more actively than usual. He threw himself into his training as soon as Eir told him he could (though he suspected she only did because she knew he'd have done it anyway) and the injury hadn't even left a scar.

After a particularly good training session he was drinking with the Warriors Three, drunkenly leaning against Fandral's arm and looking up at him with a dozy smile.

Fandral wasn't bragging about a lady this time; he was rather quiet, actually, just staring down at Thor, and a heat lit in Thor's belly. It was easy to ignore the voice of wisdom when he was this drunk. He wasn't as drunk as he pretended, though he felt it; he wobbled and Fandral caught him and it felt so good.

Fandral wasn't drinking as much as usual either, and Thor's voice was clear when he said "Your prince demands you take him to bed." Fandral wrapped his arm around his shoulders and supported him though he was clearly quite steady on his feet, walked him down the corridor and he leaned against him. He did stumble, but he wasn't so out of it that he was falling asleep, though neither of them spoke.

Fandral locked the bedroom door behind them and Thor's eyes were bright as he sat on the bed.

"I'm straight," were the first words out of Fandral's mouth.

"I know," Thor said.

Fandral kissed him first, strode across the room and crushed his mouth against Thor's. His stubble rubbed against Thor's and he pushed him down, pressed his body to the bed with his own and Thor rose against him. He held him down by the shoulders with a growl, not breaking the kiss, and he stayed where he was, feeling drunker than he really was, kissing Fandral back passionately.

"I'm straight," Fandral repeated when they finally broke apart, flushed and panting for breath, but Fandral was as hard as he was and he wasn't moving. Thor's lips parted slightly and he looked beseechingly up at him.

Fandral reached for his tunic and pulled it over his head.

They would be better muscled later surely, when they were grown men, but they'd both grown up with swords in their hands. Their palms were calloused and their chests were well toned. Thor reached forwards, pressed a hand flat against his chest and trailed it down, a soft sigh leaving him as he sat up a little for Fandral to pull his off. He flushed deeper with every inch of skin he exposed and spoke without prompting.

"The draw," he said. Fandral tossed his tunic somewhere in the corner and fumbled through it for the oil Thor used when he pleasured himself.

"You've thought of this," Fandral said, voice husky. "Prepared."

"Every night," Thor breathed, hips rolling against Fandral's. He was rewarded by Fandral's groan and returning roll.

"Tell me," Fandral whispered against his lips, hands shimmying his pants down.

"You pin me down," Thor breathed. "Just like this. And you turn me over, and you bite me here." He gestured vaguely at his neck. "Leave marks just like yours on me." He was drunker than he'd thought; his voice was slurred. But he couldn't stop talking. The words rushed out. Words he'd sworn would remain ever silent, ever fantasies.

"You spread me open," he whined as Fandral's heat vanished but gasped softly when he was turned so his face was in the mattress, lifted his head to be heard. "Open me up until I beg you to..." he swallowed. "To just fuck me."

"Like this?" The oil jar clicked open and he spread his legs as he felt Fandral's cold finger probe at him.

"Just like that," Thor said as Fandral slipped it into him. "Aaah-"

"Then let me take what you want to give me."

Thor moaned.

Fandral worked three fingers into him, rather too carefully for Thor's tastes, until he was bucking and whining and biting the pillow to restrain it. Finally they pulled out and he turned glazed eyes to Fandral to find he was fully naked now and as hard as he was. He was slathering oil on his proud cock and flushed.

He then pressed his heat to Thor's body and slid into him slowly.

They gasped in unison, Thor trembling beneath him, hands fisted until one of Fandral's slid between his fingers. Fandral muffled his further gasps by biting at Thor's neck and when he bottomed out they just stayed there for a very long minute.

"God," Fandral groaned, voice rough and wrecked. "Thor..." His other hand fisted in his hair.

"Fuck me," Thor whispered, and Fandral did.

Oh, how his hips snapped forward, as hard as he'd been gentle earlier, how fast he was, and it was too much, too soon, it hurt but Thor had never wanted anything more, never felt so good. He writhed and moaned and bucked up, cock jumping when he felt Fandral brush against _something_ in him, clenching tight around him, prompting Fandral's own wrecked moan.

Fandral's teeth closed on his bruised neck and _bit_. Properly this time, enough to draw blood, and Thor shouted.

Neither of them lasted long; within a few minutes Fandral was spilling and, dazed, it took him a moment to pull out and roll Thor over, but when he did he noticed Thor's weeping cock and took him in hand a little clumsily. Three strokes and Thor was spilling.

Fandral was staring at him, and by the time he came down, he was gone.

He slept very well that night.

XX

Neither of them mentioned it.

Their friends didn't either, though they looked at the bite mark on Thor's neck and at Fandral, so Thor knew they knew. He blushed whenever they looked at it, and when he looked at Fandral, and didn't spar with him. His every touch he could feel him taking his tunic off, spreading him open, and Fandral went red whenever he looked at Thor or his hands brushed against him too.

As much as he didn't think about it unless it was night and he was taking himself in hand, it pleased Thor to know he'd affected Fandral as badly as Fandral was affecting him.

Gradually they started to spar again, and once they wrestled, and Fandral pinned him easily but didn't press his advantage; they just stayed there, Thor revelling in and ashamed by how much he enjoyed having Fandral's body against his, until Fandral just got up and walked away. Thor stayed on the ground for a long minute.

They sat away from each other when they drank and Thor got Volstagg or Hogun or Sif or even Loki to take him back to his room when he was too drunk to get there himself after. Surely the others noticed but he was grateful they didn't say anything.

XX

The dam broke.

It had to; they were dancing around each other but they couldn't dance forever, and when they ran into each other in the corridor one night (Thor was coming back from the kitchens and assumed Fandral was going there by the direction he took) they both stopped and stared at each other.

Thor felt like he was going to run, but he didn't.

"About that night," he blurted. Fandral went red and looked down. "I-" he drew in a deep breath. "I really liked it." Fandral looked up. Thor was as red as his cape but he continued on.

"I _really_ liked it," he said.

"So did I," Fandral breathed. "I-"

It was too risky to kiss here, but they were. Arms wrapped around each other, growing beards rubbing against each other.

"Tonight," Fandral said as he stepped back with obvious difficulty when a passing servant startled and squeaked out an apology before rushing on. Thor nodded.

"Tonight," he said with a nervous look at the servant. Would she tell Father? The very thought of him knowing- but Fandral was smiling nervously and he met it with an equally nervous smile, then scurried off.

He didn't look back. He resolutely did not look back.

XX

What was he doing?

The first time he could blame it on the drink, but he hadn't had a drop in two days; this time if Father found out... he pushed Father from his mind.

He was the prince, he wasn't meant to be _ergi_ , but he was. And Fandral was coming. He straightened and checked to make sure he didn't have anything on his face in the mirror again.

Eagerness thrummed in his gut and he jumped up at the knock on the door, hurried over.

It was a servant, asking if he needed anything, and he couldn't hide his disappointment as he shook his head and sent the man away.

Five minutes later another knock sounded and this time it was Fandral, who glanced around nervously and slipped in. His gaze passed over the freckles dotting Thor's nose and Thor stepped back to let him in properly.

They stared at each other for a long minute, trying to figure out what to do, and Thor held a hand out. Fandral hesitated a moment before taking it, and then their movements became surer.

Fandral batted his hands away when he tried to take his tunic off, insisted on doing it himself, taking his time this time. His fingers skirted over Thor's chest and he shivered under them, eyes locked on Fandral's.

"Do these continue everywhere?" Fandral leaned down to kiss the freckles on his chest as he finally got his tunic off. Thor giggled a little nervously.

"Yeah," he said. "I've always had them."

"I'm sorry I didn't notice them last time," Fandral said. "I shall make sure to make up for that this time." He kissed another one, then another, and Thor reached forward. He lifted his head to let Thor take his tunic off and they crawled onto the bed, curled around each other, drinking the other in with their eyes.

"What you were saying last time," Fandral murmured. "You still want me to tell you what to do?" Thor's shiver became a full blown tremble.

"Yes." His voice was barely a whisper. "Fandral..."

"Shush." Thor fell silent at the new note in his voice, the voice he used on the battlefield, and his cock twitched. "Lay back." He wriggled until he was on his back, arms by his side, legs spread a little without realising. "I'm going to get these off, then I'm going to claim you." He tugged at Thor's pants as he spoke and Thor arched his back to help. They landed with a plop somewhere in the room and he didn't care where.

Bare before Fandral, he flushed as he felt his eyes roving up and down, centring briefly on his clearly interested cock, and Thor glanced at Fandral's pants to see a bulge there.

"They really are everywhere," he murmured.

"Told you," Thor said.

"I told you to shush." Thor obediently shut his mouth. If someone had told Loki he'd obey orders he'd have laughed himself sick. Fandral took his ankle and traced up slowly, as if trying to count them. "They say you get freckles when you're kissed by an elf."

 _The only person I've kissed is you_ Thor thought. It was true; there were stories told of him but he'd never kissed anyone before Fandral despite them, and he knew Fandral knew that. For all he said that Thor was threatening him, catching up, he knew that he knew the truth.

"I was too rough last time," Fandral said now. "I didn't take my time to enjoy you as I ought to have. You look delectable, stretched out like that, so beautiful and dazed." His hands had reached Thor's hips but despite his hopes they didn't linger. "The way you're looking at me..." he let his voice trail off and leaned down to kiss him. "I will give you everything you've ever wanted," he promised softly.

"You must have been kissed by so many elves," he said. "But I'll wipe the memory of their lips away." He kissed him once more and it was deeper this time. Thor raised his head to meet him as his hands reached his nipples and circled them a few times before disappearing. Thor was disappointed until he realised Fandral was taking his pants off and reaching for the draw to fetch the oil.

"I want you to ride me," he said, sitting up and patting his lap. Thor rose and straddled him, movements quick, nervous and eager. He'd never done anything like this before. "Lift your hips."

Fandral coated his fingers and slid one into him. Both their cocks were stirring, starting to stand up, and as one finger became two and Thor gasped, rocking his hips, they rose faster. The stretch hurt but it was the best pain he'd ever felt; something akin to the ache of healing muscles after training, a satisfying burn that only incited him to want more. He clenched a little, trying to feel them tighter inside him.

"Patience," Fandral said. "In good time."

He prepared him as thoroughly as before but this time offered the bottle to Thor to lather his cock up.

It was the first time Thor had touched another man's cock and he was surprised how much like his own it felt. Of course, it didn't when he moved forwards and hovered above it, drew in a deep breath and looked Fandral in the eye.

"Down," Fandral ordered and he lowered himself.

He squeezed his eyes shut as the head of his cock spread him and heard his own breaths loud in his ears, rasping. His cock was hard and erect and he whimpered a little. Fandral's steadying hands on his hips made him open his eyes.

"That's it," his friend murmured. "You're doing so well, just keep going like that." Buoyed, he kept going, trying to steady his breathing. Fandral moaned softly when he changed his angle a little and he paused before resuming the movement.

It took him a while after he bottomed out to move, and Fandral squeezed his hips, his voice hard again when he spoke.

"Ride," he ordered and Thor made sure his feet were in the right position to support himself and obeyed.

The pressure was relieved as he lifted off but he sank right back down, faster this time, and Fandral held his gaze as he did. He started slow and built up to faster and Fandral's stern look turned soft as praise tumbled from his lips. The fire in Thor's belly was raging and he could feel Fandral's cock twitching at his moans and whimpers, which stalled his rhythm for a moment before he resumed it.

He was going to feel this in the morning.

He jerked in surprise when Fandral squeezed a hand around his cock.

"Come on," he murmured. "You're doing so well, you can come." He rubbed up and down and Thor's rhythm was totally lost. He jerked and thrashed and came all over his chest and Fandral's hand, squeezing down on his cock as he did.

Fandral came as he was lifting off, breath evening out as he curled beside him, and they smiled at each other.

"We need to do this again," Fandral said.

"I thought you were straight," Thor teased him as he cuddled into his chest. Fandral wrapped his arms around him.

"You always did look like a girl," he said and Thor was too dozy and sated to fake offence at the words as they drifted off.


End file.
